This church is of peculiar value from its retaining, like those of St. Alban’s and Norwich, so much of the original Norman outline, and few there are which exceed it in the solemn dignity of its external aspect.
Of the neighbouring cathedral of Worcester, as rebuilt about this time or a little earlier by St. Wolstan,—one of the few English bishops who retained their sees under the Normans,—we have only the crypt,[29] which is wonderfully perfect in its design and preservation, and the arches which led into the eastern chapels of the transepts. We have also the unique and beautiful circular chapter-house of about the same period.[30] Against the south transept, in an arched passage, we find either a reminiscence of the Saxon baluster or some from the older cathedral used again. St. Wolstan would, no doubt, have been glad of any such memento of good old times; remembering which, while watching the progress of his Norman Church, he could not restrain his feelings, and exclaimed, “We wretched people destroy the works of the saints, that we may get praise for ourselves. That age of happy men knew not how to construct pompous edifices, but they knew well how, under such roofs as they had, to sacrifice themselves to God, and to set a good example. We, alas! strive that we may pile up stones, neglecting, the while, the care of souls.”
I will not detain you by describing Hereford, built by the more pious relative and namesake of Losinga, of Norwich;[31] nor Chichester, commenced about 1089, a few years after the removal of the ancient see from Selsey, and which was a very perfect Norman cathedral on a minor scale, with its eastern end arranged much as that of Norwich, but with two western towers. Its original features are excellent specimens of the early period.
Let us now travel far northwards, and visit St. Cuthbert’s glorious shrine; but, after entering upon the great Northern road, let us step aside and pay a passing tribute to the memory of England’s last Saxon king, Harold Infelix, in the church of his own founding, at Waltham.
When the nave, now standing, was erected, let us not too curiously inquire. It is a question on which some of our keenest antiquaries have differed, and let us not dispute over a site so sacred in England’s history. Right goodly is the remaining fragment, by whomsoever erected. I confess to a belief that it was the work of some who still loved the memory of Harold, after living long under Norman sway; and if, in after years, the chieftains of Norman lineage delighted to trace their names in the roll of Battle Abbey, that proud memento
Of Hasting’s fatal field,
Where shiver’d was fair England’s spear,
And broken was her shield,
be it rather for Englishmen to take a mournful pleasure in the spot whither were borne from that fatal field the mangled remains of England’s native but unhappy king.
The two are alike mementos of national humiliation; but let us rejoice that, though the triumphal thank-offering of the Conqueror is now a desolate ruin, the remnant of Harold’s foundation, however reduced, is still a church, and has been in our day rescued from much of its humiliation, and been made the subject of thoughtful and artistic care.
Its architecture has some resemblance to the glorious work which we have next to consider; for, like Durham, its bays are arranged in couplets. In one instance, on either side, the intermediate pier is a round column, pure and simple, with spiral flutings; in the others, the same form but with attached shafts towards the aisles, so that the two buildings which I have thus accidentally taken—the one on our pilgrimage to the other—are so much alike in internal design that one might fairly attribute them to the same architect.